Living Unity
by visodyssey
Summary: Set post seventh year, we find the now grown Hermione in her early twenties, and as temporary Professor of Transfiguration at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. [updated 120305: Chapter 2 added]
1. Chapter 1: The Past Revived

**Living Unity  
****Chapter 1: The Past Revived**

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Hermione was sitting in the living room of her house, a relatively simple and not overly large dwelling. She had a cup of tea next to her, and a small heap of digestive biscuits, and in her slim hands was placed a book. 

The book's front cover was a plain red, with the title written in simple white text. The pages: black text of the standard wizarding style on a white background.

Hermione was adorned with a beautiful summer dress, in bright yellows and oranges. She would never wear this sort of thing if she was going away from her house, perhaps into the nearby town of Hogsmeade, although at home, she was quite happy to carry it on her body all day long. It was loose and allowed the soft summer breeze to circulate over the surface of her skin, and it no longer caused a large scar she had been unfortunate enough to receive in her seventh year to sting and stab with pain.

Hermione's hair remained brown, and as curled as it ever had been; the waves of her childhood had been amplified in magnitude as she matured. Her hair, however, was longer now than it had ever been; since she had left Hogwarts, she had allowed her hair to grow much, much more than she had ever permitted it before, and it was now reaching most of the way down her back.

Hermione turned a page carefully, taking care not to damage the book, one owned by her old friend, Professor Minerva McGonagall. Formally her teacher, the Professor was now temporary headmistress of Beauxbatons Academie, the French school for Witchcraft and Wizardry, while its usual directrice, Madame Maxime, and the groundskeeper from Hogwarts, Rubeus Hagrid, had set off on a mission to attempt to unify the Giant population with the rest of the living world. After her graduation, Hermione was offered the Professor's job, that of Transfiguration teacher, while the latter was involved with Beauxbatons. Although it was almost unheard of for someone so recently graduated to receive such a prominent position, the directors of Hogwarts had made an exception in the case of Hermione, who was one of the highest ever scoring students of Hogwarts on her NEWT exams, although a good deal of it had been to do with Professor McGonagall's personal recommendation.

The Professor and Hermione had grown closer after the incident, and Hermione owed a good deal of what she now was to this wise lady. They exchanged letters now, as Professor McGonagall lived a good way away from Hogwarts.

Hermione jumped as an owl tapped on the window, and she got up, smiling at the owl and carefully placing the book down on the sofa. She opened the window, and it flew in gracefully, its feathers the purest white and its hooting soft and gentle. It landed safely on a tall figurine Hermione had been given as a graduation gift by her parents.

She almost glided across the room back to the owl, which hooted brightly at her as she approached. She patted it on the head, and removed the owl's burden, a small letter, of which she recognized the handwriting on the envelope instantly. It was from McGonagall; her latest letter, delivered by the late Harry Potter's owl, Hedwig, who now belonged to the astute Hermione.

The letter's envelope and the letter itself were both of old parchment and the handwriting elegant, clearly created with a quill of high quality. The envelope was sealed with a vibrant red wax stamp.

Hermione carefully opened the communiqué, and gently pulled out the parchment inside, and unfolding it, eager and anticipative as to its content. She sat down on the sofa again, being careful not to sit on the book, and dipped into the letter with her eyes, feeding herself on its words. She noticed, just after she had started to read, that Hedwig was staring up at a picture of Harry that was positioned on Hermione's mantelpiece, with big, round, sad eyes and a sombre look covering her face. Hermione sighed as she watched her, then returned to the letter.

The letter read:

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you, my dear? I do hope that the burdens of teaching are not too hard on you. Of course I don't doubt that you're managing; you were one of the best students we ever had, and might I add, you did Gryffindor proud. In any case, teaching should suit you well; you and education seem to go hand in hand._

_I must admit, I am finding my new role quite a challenge. Being a headmistress is no small order, even if it is on a temporary basis, but to be head of a foreign school is even more difficult. Apart from on a language basis (although my French is certainly up to scratch), there are also challenges to face on a cultural level. The procedures and day-to-day life of Beauxbatons are quite different to those of Hogwarts, and although the staff here are doing their utmost to be of aid to me, I must admit I am feeling somewhat… ambivalent about the prospect of an entire year here. Nevertheless, we shall see. I'm not likely to leave when I enjoy the cooking as much as I do!_

_Ah, yes, dear, what are the Gryffindors like this year? I trust they're not a troublesome bunch, although (and this is strictly off the record) the Slytherins will no doubt be a handful. And how are we doing in the Quidditch Cup? Hopefully, we'll be winning – it'll cost me a lot of pride to have to give up this trophy._

_On a different note I saw your friends Lavender and Parvati a few days ago, in town. They were purchasing various products, although I don't know what for… they wouldn't say, except that they were for 'experimentation', and I don't doubt I know why - Divination has had far too much impact on those two girls. They still giggle as much as ever, you know. You are probably already aware of this, but they have opened a small shop here in France specialising in Divination products. It's just… well, you know my opinions on the subject._

_I hope Professor Snape isn't giving you too much trouble; I know he can be… somewhat less sociable from time to time, shall we say. He did promise that he would treat you with the same respect as an adult now; after all, you deserve nothing less, and in my opinion, much more, but I wasn't sure whether to believe him. He's not your teacher any more, so don't be afraid to keep him in check where it is necessary._

_Now, dear, another couple of owls should be arriving soon with a gift for you from myself. I trust you will enjoy it; I selected it especially for you, although to let slip a little secret, it wasn't that hard to choose this. I know you too well, Miss Granger…_

_Finally, I'd like to invite you to come to Beauxbatons. Albus has arranged for a half-term week to be added to each school term, as you know, so, if you can, please pay me a visit during that time. I look forward to seeing you again._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Professor M. McGonagall_

Hermione replaced the letter in its envelope, contemplating that which Professor McGonagall had written as she moved to the kitchen to boil some water for another cup of tea. Hermione's preferred tea was Chai, an Indian blend that she considered quite tangy, and she enjoyed a cup or two on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The water heated quickly and she added it to the cup, which already possessed a teabag, allowing it to ferment for a few minutes. While she did so, she heard further hooting from owls, recently entered in her living room; evidently, her present had arrived.

She untied it from the owls; it was rather large, and she was unsure how the owls had managed to deliver it. About two feet by one by one, she opened the box and revealed its contents; it contained several bottles of wine, a wide selection of cheeses and a small myriad of other French foods. Hermione smiled at this, but her face entirely lit up when a glint caught her eye from between the cheeses. She plunged her hand between then and carefully extracted the object. It was a solid gold amulet, sculpted with precision in the shape of the emblem of the house of Gryffindor, Hermione's old house at Hogwarts, and now the house that she led; previously, this had been Professor McGonagall's job.

Hermione was astounded; this was one-of-a-kind, absolutely pure and untarnished, and was of immense value, both of the monetary and emotional kind. It took her a moment to recover from the shock of seeing such a thing being presented to her; this was no ordinary gift, and Hermione knew this well. The emotions resonated throughout her, and her hands shook, almost to the extent that she dropped the object of their cause; the Professor had made a very good choice when she had selected this item for her former student, as was now obvious from Hermione's reactions.

She did not move for a while as she absorbed the emotions currently pounding through every square inch of her skin. Eventually, she regained control of herself and once again searched around inside the box, discovering more and more different types of food. Hermione was impressed; it would take her a while to get through the somewhat large selection her former professor had provided for her.

After Hermione had finished her tea, and relaxed for a while, she thought about returning McGonagall's letter. Hermione would certainly have loved to see France again; she had not been since she was thirteen years old, when she had visited the south of France with her sister, Sophie, her mother, Jane, and her father, Alan. She had certainly enjoyed the trip, and it would certainly be a lovely experience, she thought, to go back to the beautiful country and experience it through the eyes of her adulthood.

But before responding, she decided to take a cool and refreshing shower; the heat of the late summer was still as scorching as ever, with temperatures rarely falling below 35 degrees Centigrade, and it was enough to make one want to spend every waking moment in the shower, where the fine spray of the cool water was the most comfortable place one could hope to be.

After her shower, she wrapped the towel around her body carefully, returning to her bedroom in order that she might change into something she could wear for a short trip to The Three Broomsticks, a free house situated quite locally to her _humble repose_.

Hermione put on a well-ironed pair of jeans, and a simple red T-shirt. She dried her hair, and brushed it thoroughly; finally, she found a small paper bag from her kitchen, and placed within its confines a small bottle of blue ink, some brown parchment, and a delicate quill.

She exited her house, locking the door as she did so; this behaviour was more from force of habit, encouraged by her Muggle lifestyle than due to any particular need. The defeat of the dark wizard Lord Voldemort, and the subsequent defeat of the remaining Death Eaters, had rendered upon the wizarding world a new and powerful sense of safety, of security, and the vast majority no longer locked their doors. Hermione, however, was the exception to this rule. She always and unfailingly secured her house before departing from it.

Her house was located east of the wizarding town of Hogsmeade, where lived many of the wizarding world's most unique and special occupants. Today, Hermione would have to walk from one side of the town to the other, from her house to a place very near Hogwarts' Forbidden Forest.

The weather outside in this serene area of the world was perfect today; there were but a few tiny cirrocumulus clouds, high in the sky, and the sun's rays penetrated the atmosphere with definite intent and gave the entire sky a fabulous light.

As Hermione walked along the road that ran through the town, she passed a myriad of familiar locales, starting with Dervish & Banges, the magical equipment repair shop, where Hermione had been once or twice with Harry in the past when his broom had required minor repairs. Very little had changed there, from a cursory glance, she observed.

Continuing down the long street, she passed Zonko's, the wizarding joke shop, which did many a bit of business with students from Hogwarts. She had even visited once or twice, to drag out Ron or Harry, in most cases.

She passed Honeydukes as she slowly meandered along the road; she had stopped by, and only once, she noted to herself with pride, for a bag of coconut mushrooms and a large banana and carrot flavoured lollipop. She had also, she remembered fondly, seen Luna Lovegood browsing through the more, one could say, 'interesting' choices, such as Cockroach Clusters and Bloodthroat Berries.

Hermione's brown hair bobbed up and down behind her as she continued on, and a light breeze started to brush softly against her face, as she approached her destination, The Three Broomsticks, a pub that Harry, Ron and Hermione had used to rendezvous many a time. It, like many of the other outlets in Hogsmeade's main street, had changed and evolved little over the years, although the patrons were more numerous now that Voldemort was gone.

As Hermione entered, a few heads turned; it was rare to see this particular Hogwarts professor indulge in such a thing as a pub. She approached the bar and straightened out her hair a little bit with her hands, and Madam Rosmerta approached her from the far right side.

"Hello, Hermione. It's been a while since I saw you around here… Hogwarts been keeping you busy, has it?" she asked, as she continued to clean glasses.

"Indeed, it has been quite a challenge, Rosmerta," Hermione replied.

"So, what can I get you?"

"Well, as you know I don't usually drink but today… well, I'll have an iced gin and tonic, please," she asked.

Rosmerta raised her left eyebrow at this unexpected change. "Nice to see you're finally getting into the spirit, Hermione, m'dear." She poured the drink, and handed it to her, taking the money for it at the same time.

"Thank you, Rosmerta," Hermione said in acknowledgement, and took her drink to a table in the corner; she had not sat at this table for a very long time; in fact, it was her third year that had brought her last visit to her.

Hermione placed the bag on the table, then sat down, after the briefest moment of contemplation, taking out the parchment, quill and ink as soon as she had seated herself.

She rolled out the parchment, and started to write her response to Professor McGonagall.

_Dear Professor,_

_I hope you are well, and that all bides fine for you in France. To answer your question, yes, Professor Snape is giving me a hard time, but no more than usual. Granted it's only two weeks into term, but he's being his usual self. Don't worry, I have it in hand, and if he tries anything drastic, I'll speak to Professor Dumbledore._

_I feel I must thank you for the wonderful gift you have honoured me with. You could not have chosen anything more thoughtful than a gift that represents the pride of Gryffindor, that I might carry it around my neck every day with me. And the food… I shall enjoy that very much…_

_With regards to your offer, I am delighted to accept. I would love to see France again; it is a most beautiful and culturally rich place, and I would also like to see your school, if that would be permissible._

_Gryffindor have scored a good deal of points, even in these two weeks; they've already managed to get 50 points, whereas the other houses are well behind. As for the new students, they are mostly fine, although as you said, some of the Slytherins are a bother. And there is a particular first year, in Gryffindor, who reminds me of myself to such an extent I wonder if she is a long lost member of my family; she does all that which I used to do, studies all day, reads all night, hardly plays at all… but she has friends, and that I'm glad to see. I'm going to keep an eye out for her; Dumbledore thinks she has great promise, as do I._

_Anyway, I must finish now; I have to prepare the classes for tomorrow. I hope you continue to enjoy your experience in Beauxbatons._

_See you soon,_

_Hermione._

As she finished her communiqué and rolled up the scroll again, she noticed a small man approaching her, with a pointy hat and a beard, and waving his wand merrily about, drawing shapes in the air with it. Eventually, he drew a five-pointed star and shot it at Hermione, which fully got her attention.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. How are we doing? Still endlessly working, are we?" he asked brightly.

Hermione beamed at the man, a teacher known as Professor Flitwick, who apart from teaching Charms, was the head of Ravenclaw House, home to those of great intelligence and wisdom, although Hermione, of course, was of the noble house of Gryffindor.

"Yes, Professor, one can never have too much work, I think," she replied. "Yourself?"

Filius nodded. "Yes, indeed, young one, although I am old now, I still like to keep up with the work. Gives me a sense of purpose, you know."

Hermione momentarily felt a little disturbed by Professor Flitwick's last reply, but shook it off and continued. "Well, Professor, would you like to join me?"

Flitwick smiled. "Don't mind if I do." He sat himself down opposite Hogwarts' newest and youngest Professor, with a Cherry Syrup and soda. "So, Hermione, how are you finding it? Being on the other side, as it were?"

Hermione looked around, then moved closer to Flitwick. "Well, to tell you the truth, Professor, I'm having a little trouble with Professor Snape. He's somewhat… arrogant, and he still treats me like I'm a student."

Filius smiled. "Ah, Hermione, dear, don't worry too much about him. Just stay on his good side and all will be fine. If it isn't, have a word with Albus; I'm sure he'll help you out."

Hermione noted, in conclusion, "I wish I was as confident as you in those ideas, Professor. I don't believe Snape can ever really change."

"Moving on," she added, "I've a student in my class with great potential in her. Her name's Aeranna Hunt; do you know her?"

Professor Flitwick raised his eyebrows and looked around in thought. "Hmm… possibly," he concluded. "What does she look like?"

Hermione gave a description of the girl, to which the Professor responded affirmatively; he did know the girl. She, as he noted, was, like Hermione, the only one in the class initially able to perform the _Wingardium Leviosa_ charm with success in her year group.

She thought back to that time with warm memories surfacing of her first year with her friends Harry and Ron, and her roommates, Lavender and Parvati in particular. But as she thought back to that lesson, back to her two best friends, and more specifically, back to Ronald Weasley, her thoughts became difficult; she felt, perhaps, even a bit guilty about what had happened in the past few years.

Flitwick added, "So how's Ron then? You and he were very close, as I recall."

Hermione flinched almost instantly, although unnoticeably to Flitwick. She delayed her response just a second too long, long enough that Flitwick queried it.

She finally gave him an answer, although it was blatantly a lie.

"Ron's fine, Professor. He's doing really well, last thing I heard," she replied, with every word being a falsification.

Professor Flitwick apparently accepted it, though, although he wasn't going to leave it at that. "What's he doing then? Hopefully being as successful as you are."

Hermione replied that she wasn't sure, but she thought he was probably playing Quidditch professionally now. His first real taste of it, during his fifth year, had given him a real liking for the game, and he had repeatedly said during his sixth and seventh years that he'd like to play professionally when he left Hogwarts.

"No, I'm afraid I don't know, Professor. I thought he was going into Quidditch but that was a long time ago."

"Ah, Quidditch, yes, Hermione, do you think your team will beat mine this year? We do have a very competent lot, you know."

Hermione, thankful for the escape from the previous topic, went straight for this change of subject. "Oh, I don't think you'll have to worry. That is, worry about having to prepare an acceptance speech for the trophy. I'll be preparing mine."

Filius waggled his finger about. "We'll see, we'll see, Miss Granger. Although as long as Slytherin don't get it, I'll be happy."

The conversation continued apace for another half an hour, before Hermione realised that it was almost time to be returning home, and she excused herself from the Professor, taking her items with her.

As she wandered down the street, she opened her heart to herself. Filius' questions had been very trying for her; she had had trouble to respond without snapping, and she felt that, perhaps, she needed to ask herself some difficult questions.

Where was Ron?

How was he doing?

_Why did we ever lose each other?_

She walked straight past the Hogsmeade post office before she realised that she had forgotten to post her letter, and, annoyed that she had become so easily distracted, turned back and entered the office, getting her letter posted as quickly as she could, choosing the smallest and thus quickest owl. Although it might perhaps have been easier, and certainly would have been cheaper, to send Hedwig, Hermione was considerate of the fact that Hedwig had just returned from a long journey, and that she would need rest, so she decided to pay the fee, and help her beloved owl.

She simply wanted to return home now. She trundled through the streets, with her hair blowing wildly behind her, but she didn't care; she had no real concern about her physical appearance at this moment. Hell, she thought, she'd have walked through Hogsmeade naked at this point; she was so distracted and so overwhelmed with pain.

She'd first lost her best friend to the fight against evil, and then she lost her soulmate to the forbidden emotions they had felt; the emotions that she, herself, feared the most.

Hermione Granger, had, in her heart, lost it all.

A single tear escaped her left eye as she left Hogsmeade, heading for home.

Hermione used her wand's magic to cause a spoon to autonomously stir the baked beans she was cooking to go on some toast, for her tea. Baked beans on toast, admittedly, was not the most elegant of meals, but Hermione, again, had learnt from her life as a Muggle-born witch, and still ate this meal when she didn't have the inclination to dedicate her time to a more elaborate dish.

As the toast popped out of the toaster (an ingenious combination of spells, which had made its inventor a rich woman), Hermione finished cooking the beans, and spread them over the already-arranged toast. The plate she used was a standard ceramic one, but it had a lovely pattern of different garden birds around the edge.

Hermione carried the plate into her living room on a tray, along with her knife and fork, and a glass of carrot juice. She sat down in a chair, and placed cushions behind her to support her as she ate.

The beans were very well cooked, and Hermione was enjoying every bite of her meal, which, although it was known to cause gastrointestinal distress if consumed too frequently, was absolutely delicious, very filling and quite nutritious.

Hermione continued to relish every bite, until she heard a somewhat muffled noise outside. It was very close, and sounded like the impact of ceramics on concrete.

She almost choked on her mouthful, and quickly swallowed it, putting the tray on the floor, and instinctively pulling out her wand.

The room's curtains were closed, and Hermione thought she could see the smallest effect of a shadow projecting upon the outside of the window. She could also hear a tiny inkling of a voice, that of a middle-aged man. There was also someone younger with him, probably a female, attempting to shush him.

Hermione, now sure, tiptoed to her front door, and, silently taking off the chain, she placed her hand gently on the door handle.

She stealthily pushed the door handle down, and then, with a burst of adrenaline, yanked the door back, stepped outside and swung to the right using one of the poles of her porch, yelling "_Expelliarmus!_"

The spell caught the man's chest and he dropped a massive pile of photographic equipment as he was tossed to the floor by the power of Hermione's magic. The girl turned around, ready to defend, but Hermione had her wand pointed straight at her.

Suddenly, she realised who it was.

"Luna?" she asked in disbelief. "Umm… what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years! And… is that… no, it can't be…"

The man got up, brushing himself off.

Luna began. "Oh, he's…"

He interrupted. "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Photography, Third Class. Honorary Member of the Quibbler and five times winner, of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award."

Hermione's eyes widened as a smirk crept over her face.

Gilderoy Lockhart, rendered totally amnesic by a backfiring of the _Obliviate_ spell during Hermione's second year, the year in which he was the holder of the famed-accursed Defense Against The Dark Arts position at Hogwarts, was back. As egotistical as ever, apparently, she thought.

Hermione looked back at Luna; she was equally flabbergasted by how the blonde girl appeared. Her hair was as long and straggly as ever, and it was partially covered by an overly large, beige fishing hat, from which hung a series of eight silver spoons along its circumference most of which obscured her face to a degree. She was wearing a lime green t-shirt, underneath a beige sleeveless jacket, with many pockets, which, owing to their random positions, Hermione presumed Luna had created for herself. She was wearing shorts, also in the beige theme that possessed the rest of her body, and her socks, which went up to her knees, were striped horizontally in green and black. Finally, and Hermione noticed most disgustedly, she wore translucent colourless plastic sandals over the thick socks.

Hermione indicated with a wave of her hand that Luna and Lockhart should enter, and she passed through the door; as she did so, Hermione noticed an earring representing a turnip dangling from Luna's right ear. She directed a look in no particular direction indicating further distaste, but she did not turn them away.

Luna trotted into the kitchen and helped herself to a glass of water as Lockhart entered, wearing a ridiculous pair of shorts of similar proportion to Luna's, but in a blue reminiscent of his eye pigmentation, and made of silk, accentuated by his knees. His torso was donned in a blue, silk shirt, although of a darker colouring than his shorts, and he was wearing a turquoise hat, with a gold frill around the edge and a feather in the centre top. The look was completed with a deep red scarf, and a pair of strongly pointed boots, made of dragon hide, and so shiny that one would be able to see a clear, undistorted reflection in the tips, the recent destruction of Hermione's expensive ceramic plant-pot notwithstanding.

Hermione closed the door, and followed them into the kitchen, bemused at Luna's helping herself to a drink, and ushered them into the living room, in order that she might finish her meal. They complied without argument, and Hermione picked up her meal, sitting back in her chair softly and eating it once more. Luna sat down in the chair opposite to Hermione, while Gilderoy started to examine a gold gobstones set on one of Hermione's shelves, picking up the gobstones and rolling them about in his hands.

Hermione and Luna meanwhile conversed on the subject of the latter's arrival. The unique female, who had previously been a member of Ravenclaw House, and part of Dumbledore's Army, a secret society of students, set up by Harry Potter, in order that he might aid them in their learning of Defense Against The Dark Arts, was explaining her life as it currently was to the new Hogwarts professor.

"My daddy, you know my daddy, right? He's editor of the Quibbler. He's given me a job working for the Quibbler, as a reporter, which is so exciting; maybe I'll be able to find a Crumple-Horned Snorkack! I get to travel a lot, you know, as a reporter. It's so exciting… did I mention that? Anyway, I'm a reporter for the Quibbler, and this is Gilderoy, he's so dreamy, and he's very good at carrying my equipment around."

At the same time, Gilderoy was fighting the pieces, pretending they were soldiers in an ancient war.

Luna continued. "We met in St. Mungo's, you know, the wizarding hospital? I was reporting on an infestation of Cookleberries in the hospital, and I met Gilderoy wandering around one of the wards. He was very spaced out, not like me at all, but very confused. So I said hello to him, you know, and he said hello, because it's polite, and I did say this was all in St Mungo's, right?"

Hermione acknowledged with a nod, and Luna immediately continued, with another torrent of speech.

"So, after we'd said hi, I asked him why he was there, and he said, you know, that he had amnesia, and I decided to offer him a job, as my personal assistant. He can learn about the world again, that way, and the nurses said it would be… it would be good for him to get some time away from the hospital. So he now follows me on my reports, and I think that it is good for both of us. Congratulations, by the way, Hermione."

Hermione was momentarily dazed. "Huh… what?"

Luna waved her arm. "Oh don't be modest, Hermione, even we know that you're working at Hogwarts now."

"Ah," Hermione said, widening her eyes, and shifting position uncomfortably. "I see what you mean."

Luna buzzed happily on. "So, you're probably wanting to know why I'm here?"

Hermione nodded.

"Well, you know how every year at Hogwarts there's a different Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher? That reminds me of that Umbridge, wasn't she evil? I hate her for what she did to Harry. She was evil. Anyway, I'm here to investigate that. I've heard that it's to do with a curse, something like a dead teacher's ghost or something? Wouldn't that be freaky? Good job none of us is like that. We'd all be scared… Well, I'm going to follow the new teacher around all the time and watch and see what happens. Isn't that a good idea?"

"Ummm… yeah, it's a great idea, Luna. I'm sure it'll yield some results for you," Hermione replied.

"I'll be sure to let you know, Hermione. It'll be interesting for you too, I imagine. Just in case you ever want that position. Oh, by the way, I saw Ron a few weeks ago, when I was reporting on the Quidditch…"

Hermione lost the rest of the sentence. She let the tray slip off her legs, and it slammed hard into the ground, the remaining baked beans spreading themselves on the carpet. Luna briefly looked at it, but was not fazed.

"Sorry, Luna, what did you say?" Hermione demanded urgently.

"I said I saw Ron a few weeks ago. Anyway, isn't it good that I'm a reporter? And that I'm going to be in Hog-"

"Luna, hang on. Where did you see Ron?"

Luna played with one of the spoons on her hat and looked up in thought, then looked back at Hermione. "Ah! I know! He was one of the players on the Quidditch team that my daddy sponsors."

"And what team does your daddy sponsor?"

"Umm… what was it…" Luna started, continuing to play with the spoons, and even clinking them off of each other like a wind-chime.

Hermione waited in anticipation, but eventually Luna shook her head in frustration.

"I can't remember… Sorry, Hermione, I don't know," she finished.

Hermione was superlatively frustrated by Luna's docility, but accepted it. She would find out herself; a copy or two of the Quibbler was bound to be around Hogwarts.

Suddenly, Luna looked at her wrist, which was adorned with a strange design, which apparently meant something to her exclusively. She almost yelped, and Hermione's previous contemplations of Ron were erased from her mind like chalk from a blackboard.

"Ooooh! Hermione, we have to go! Come on Gilderoy, we have to go see the Batmingles! Come on!" She positively raced out of the door, with Lockhart following apace.

Hermione followed them to the door, smiling as she watched them leave, and finally closed it, on this peculiar pair.


	2. Chapter 2: Walking to School

**Living Unity  
****Chapter 2: Walking to School**

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Hermione bent down to pick up a quill that had fallen out of her bag, looking around as she did so. As she extracted it from the dirt, she pulled out her wand, using a simple scourgification spell to restore its previous state of cleanliness.

Ahead of her was Hogsmeade Station, to where all the Hogwarts pupils arrived and from where they departed several times each year. Despite its location in a relatively simple village, the station had a glamour; a charm to it that was very becoming of the locale.

As she proceeded along the winding, rough dirt tracks, her black leather boots, made of dragon hide and designed for walking, made contact with the polished oak of the station's floor. As she passed by the platform, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a coat, apparently abandoned by its owner on one of the royal red benches. She wondered if she shouldn't hand it in to Hogwarts' lost property office. However, as she was about to go over to the coat, its eyes opened.

Hermione blinked, uncertain if she had seen what she thought she had or if, in fact, she had been hallucinating. It raised its head, eyeing her for a moment, then bounded off of the bench, and charged towards her. Hermione suddenly realised who it was.

"Crookshanks!" she yelled out, drawing the attention of several patrons of the station, as the large fluffy cat dived at her, almost bowling her over. Looking over his coat, she noted to him, "Crookshanks! You've been out all night chasing mice again haven't you?" She tutted somewhat, but stroked him and then allowed him to follow her on her voyage to Hogwarts.

Crossing the shining silver railway line, she proceeded, bags in hand, into the lush green grounds of Hogwarts, which had a light frosting of brown, shrivelled leaves from the deciduous oaks that surrounded the area.

The sunlight shone down brightly on the lake and Hermione and her cat reflected in it, Hermione's bright red, knee-length coat accentuating her slim form and her thick, long brown hair allowed to flow liberally behind her. The water was calm, except for a few ripples caused by a recent appearance of the Giant Squid. Hermione smiled slightly, thinking about many a time spent near the lake, with many a friend...

Her thoughts turned to Ron, and her smile faded; the sunlight also dimmed a little, and even Crookshanks looked a little down. Hermione increased her pace to get to the doors quicker; this was, as it had been every day since that fateful moment, an unpleasant and unwelcome reminder of her seventh year.

The grand doors to the school were now in view; as always in winter, only the smaller lower section of them was open, due to the immense winds that picked up due to Hogwarts' coastal location. Although this situation presented the observer with lovely views and superlative sunsets, basking the land in golds and yellows, it represented much more to the new teacher.

As she approached the old, wooden doors, she glanced subconsciously to the right; she saw Hagrid's hut, but, as had been regular for the entirety of this term, the billowing smoke present when Hagrid occupied it was nowhere to be seen. Again, Hermione felt a twang of pain as she stepped inside the castle in which she had essentially grown up.

A couple of students passed her by, and she smiled to them politely before she spotted Professor Lupin coming down the grand staircase.

"Ah, Professor Granger. Good morning. Off to breakfast?"

Hermione nodded curtly. "Yes, but I need to deposit my things first."

"Ah," he offered, "allow me to assist you." He took some of the baggage from her, and led her to the staffroom, where in the past two weeks alone, Hermione had enjoyed some of the best coffee in her life. The privileges of being a teacher were quite numerous, she had discovered.

Crookshanks happily placed himself in the armchair closest to the roaring, searingly hot fire, and curled up, preparing for a sleep. Hermione shook her head in mocking, and then placed the remainder of her things on a desk allocated to her.

The new professor picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet that was lying idly on the same table, and, spotting something, she opened it to a page near the centre. It was a detailed article describing the abolition of the Act that had previously prevented werewolves from being permitted to work in schools, and although it had been a long time coming, this academic year was the start of their reunification with other creatures.

Therefore, Professor Lupin had been the first to be rehired by Professor Dumbledore.

Looking over her shoulder, Remus commented. "I still think they could have been a little more graceful. I mean, look at those comments," he indicated several, "they present werewolves in a less than favourable manner."

"I absolutely agree," Hermione replied enthusiastically. "But then, I guess old loyalties never really die, do they?"

No reply to this comment was needed, and the pair exited shortly thereafter, breakfast beckoning them to the Great Hall. Every day since Hermione had been a teacher, she had made a conscious effort to be the first professor to the staff table, but Albus Dumbledore had somehow managed to beat her on every occasion, no matter how early she arrived.

Today was going to be the day she would be first. She had arrived forty minutes earlier than usual, had only stopped briefly in the staff room, and was taking the most direct route she knew to the Great Hall. Plus, he hadn't passed her in the corridor – she HAD to be first this time.

However, as she entered the Great Hall, she muttered something under her breath as she noted that Professor Dumbledore was talking to Professor Flitwick at the staff table.

She tried to hide her annoyance by smiling widely at the two men as she arrived at the table with Lupin, but Albus commented, "You'll have to do better than that, Hermione my dear," winking at her knowingly.

"Whatever do you mean, Professor?" she asked mockingly, inclining her tone.

Albus simply smiled as he took his seat, Hermione, in addition, taking hers. She took out a leaf of parchment and a quill, and began to work on her lesson plans for classes that would take place in two weeks' time. She had many classes, library study time periods, and lunch breaks to schedule, although given what Hermione did during her eating times, these sessions were one and the same. However, Hermione had never had a problem coping before, and now was no different.

Albus watched her work for almost twenty minutes straight before students started to trickle into the Hall and assemble on the various tables. Many of Ravenclaw's group arrived first, followed by Gryffindor and then Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Professors and other staff also began to arrive, taking their seats to both Hermione's left and right. However, the seat directly adjacent to her was left empty, even at eight o'clock when breakfast officially commenced.

Breakfast appeared in front of her; it was a bowl of bran, with large pieces of various coloured fruits intermixed with the brown-coloured flakes. Hermione smiled; she knew Dobby had had something to do with this. Somehow she had managed to receive her favourite breakfast every day since she had been a professor; the only other person to receive this special privilege was Dumbledore himself.

As she took the first spoonful into her mouth, she saw another Professor marching quickly and clearly hurriedly up the central isle. He wore a pin denoting that he was now head of Hufflepuff House; although it was unprecedented for a former Gryffindor to be head of this House, Professor Dumbledore had offered Neville Longbottom the job after Professor Sprout had been promoted to Minister of Ecology at the Ministry of Magic, and since the Hufflepuffs had readily accepted him, both the positions of Herbology professor and Head of House had then been bestowed upon him.

He took his seat next to the radiantly beautiful Hermione, and tucked into the bowl of Wizard-O's that sparkled as they floated gently in the creamy milk.

Hermione smirked at him. "You should really be here on time, Neville." He looked mortified at this comment, and defended, "But I tried to be on time, Hermione, I really tried. It's just that I get so bogged down wi-"

She grabbed his hand quickly between hers and noted, "I'm joking." She looked into his eyes and smiled, and he returned it as realisation dawned upon him.

Letting his hand go, they both returned to eating the cereal; that is, until Hermione felt a searing glare burning at her flesh and stinging her soul. She looked to the right, and saw Professor Snape directing a glance at her, and she shuddered somewhat, memories of her time as a student resurfacing again.

She turned back, and met silence for a few moments, before Dumbledore addressed her once more.

"Don't worry about it Hermione. He does it to everyone, even to me on occasion. I don't take it too seriously."

Directing Hermione at his feet, he added, "I don't take a lot of things too seriously, of course." He revealed his socks, which today, were pink with green frills. Hermione stifled a laugh and returned to her breakfast, smiling at her elder as she ate.

"So I've noticed over the years," Hermione quipped, earning her a smile from Albus.

"Not something I ever intend to change," Dumbledore added, and with a smirk, finished, "irrespective of how much Severus decides to send glares in my direction."

"As it should be." Hermione returned to her notes as Professor Dumbledore moved off to talk to Flitwick.

"This class," Hermione announced, "will be conducted on the topic of Theory of Transfiguration, and is not a practical session, as indicated by the schedule sheets I issued at the beginning of term." There were various groans at the idea of a theory lesson – they meant a lot of writing and study, and most of the students did not enjoy this. One girl, however, smiled brightly at the idea, Hermione noticed.

"However," she was about to make people even more unhappy, "today we are not going to be studying any new topics, but instead reviewing those that we have already covered in the form of a test. Sorry for the black marks down the left edge – the replication spell went slightly wrong."

Hermione started to distribute the test parchments using her wand, what little glow that remained on each student's face disappearing like a stone dropped into water.

Students' heads bowed and quills scratched against the parchments as everyone got to the task at hand. Many of the expressions indicated either frustration or unhappiness at the questions, although a few were managing to a fair standard, and one person was simply staring at the paper, perhaps willing the correct responses to manifest themselves upon his parchment.

One girl was sat looking toward the front of the classroom, her quill neatly positioned on the desk in front of the parchment. Assuming that she was having difficulty, Hermione returned to the marking of the fifth year Ravenclaw homework. This was only the second OWL-standard Transfiguration homework she had marked, and she intended to be a harsh marker in order that the students would learn more than she herself had learnt in the same year of her education.

She read over the first homework and corrected an erroneous spelling of an advanced transfigurative spell, then a spelling of a standard English word, before moving on to read the rest of the piece. Giving the piece a mediocre grade, she moved to the next, affording herself a glance at the student whom she had previously seen doing nothing.

She noted that the girl was in a similar position to before. The girl flicked a piece of frizzy golden brown hair over her ear, and, chancing a glance at her teacher, flicked her eyes away when she saw Hermione looking back at her.

The girl rested as she was, so Hermione took the initiative. "Aeranna, is something wrong?"

Aeranna flushed a little at the attention, and drew a couple of stares, the eyes from which they had come soon returning to their work. "No, ermm... I'm finished, Professor Granger."

More glances were drawn, and Hermione herself seemed a little bit caught off guard. Collecting herself, she noted the stares which now focused on the teacher instead of Aeranna, and told the class to return to their work, before telling Aeranna, "bring your test paper to my desk."

Aeranna raised herself from her seat and walked up to Hermione's desk, straightening her jumper on the way. She handed the paper to her teacher, who, pushing aside the fifth-year work for a moment, commenced marking it.

After looking at the first question, she noticed that Aeranna was still standing nearby. She offered, "Aeranna... you can either have some additional work, or you can have the rest of the period free, since the test is all we are going to do today. What would you like to do?" She turned her gaze to meet Aeranna's.

Aeranna didn't need time to consider. "I'd like some more work, please, Professor," she chose.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, then smiled, quite in contrary to some of the members of the class, who simply shook their heads and returned to work.

"Alright," Hermione nodded, and began to give her a list of chapters to read, after which she was to proceed to review questions on the topics covered.

Hermione made her way to the expansive Great Hall and as she approached the staff table, she noted that Professors Snape and Flitwick, and Madam Pince were also present, as well as a number of minor supernumeraries to replace recently retired members of Hogwarts staff.

Taking her seat, she nodded to each one in turn, receiving a smile from Flitwick, a curt nod from Pince, and a downright rude glance from Snape. She looked at the Lunch Menu: today, the House Elves were serving a delicious tuna and mayonnaise wrap, a bowl of chicken soup, or a rump steak with Dijon mustard as a flavouring. The vegetarian option, for which Hermione usually opted, was spinach quiche. She requested it, and within seconds, it was delivered to her, along with a silver knife and fork.

Before starting, she used her wand to activate some knitting apparatus that she had stowed under her seat at the staff table. Two socks of different colours and patterns were being created by the needles. She took a bite of the food, unaware of Snape's sneers toward the constructs. Halfway through the quiche, which was of an excellent standard as always, she noticed the sneers, and, gaining courage, turned to face him and scrunched up her nose, smiling a little. He turned away in disgust and returned to glaring at various students as they entered the Hall.

Hermione, satisfied, turned back to her meal and struggled not to laugh.

Later, the meal consumed and the socks somewhat slightly more knitted, Professor Longbottom re-entered the Hall. Hermione didn't notice at first, but he was sporting an enormous boil. It looked like, upon closer inspection as he approached, to have been caused by the acid of a Fructilian Fungus plant, which, Hermione knew from experience, could become somewhat angry if improperly treated.

"Neville," she asked as he climbed the steps to the staff platform, "what happened to you?"

Neville looked frustrated and weakened. "Slytherin seventh-years. Rowdy lot, they are. They irritated the Fructilian plants," Hermione nodded in recognition of the proof to her theory, "and of course you know what happens when you do that. One of them is in the hospital wing now – has a head the size of a watermelon."

Hermione shook her head. "Idiots." She took another bite of her quiche. "Don't be so harsh on yourself, Neville," she added, noting the sombre look adorning his defined facial features.

"I've just had to send a kid to the hospital wing." Neville wore an expression of failure.

Hermione chastised him lightly. "Many pupils go to the hospital wing every day, Neville. Don't worry about it."

He seated himself, but looked down at his plate with the despondency of a dog with an empty food bowl. Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Neville... why don't you join me for dinner this evening?" She stepped up to the plate to try and raise his spirits.

He froze for a moment, and then turned his lowered head to face Hermione. "You're asking me to join you for dinner?"

"Sure I am. We're friends, aren't we?" Hermione proffered a tiny smile, which seemed to have a massive influence over the young professor.

Neville smiled brightly after a moment's consideration. "Thank you, I'll join you, definitely."

Hermione nodded. "7.30pm at my house, then. I'll see you there."

The lake radiated the golden September sunlight onto Hermione's brown locks and danced over her face as she passed its cool waters and the grassy reeds that surrounded it. She trotted along at a comfortable yet efficient pace, her bag filled with academic items, including a large amount of students' work for assessment, and a bag of cookies she had saved from her mid-afternoon snack. Pushing her thin hand inside the bag, she took one and sank her teeth into it, flinching as she missed and bit her tongue.

She walked on toward a large tree that stood at the other end of the lake. As she closed on it, her eyes moved to stay in alignment with it, as she remembered Ron climbing the tree one sunny summer afternoon.

_"Peeves..." Hermione called warningly to the ghost, who in a rare move had left the castle itself and moved into the grounds. He had stolen Hermione's bag, whilst Hermione and Ron were pursuing the poltergeist, and was heading towards a tall tree._

_Peeves simply sniggered and threw the bag into the tree, dodging a random hex that Ron threw at him in fury, then fled back to the safety of the castle._

_Hermione raised her wand to cast the Accio spell and call the bag back to her, before Ron grabbed her wrist. "Wait, Hermione," he proclaimed, "I'll get it for you."_

_"No, you don't have to," Hermione looked curiously at him._

_"I'd love to," Ron insisted, and ran towards the tree, jumping up onto the lower branches with relative ease. Hermione sat down in the grasses below, untamed and allowed to grow over the years, as she watched Ron swinging up to the higher levels of the tree using the strength he had built up over the years. Hermione hadn't realised just how much Ron had matured, and this apparently showed it._

_He reached the branch deftly, then, pulling himself up with principally his right arm, grabbed the bag and strapped it onto his bag, turning around to come back down. He descended one branch, and then moved to the next, confidence abound in him before slipping, and falling into the grasses below, rolling to avoid serious injury._

_Hermione crawled over, since he had landed not far from her, and sat over him._

_"Ron, are you alright?" She was desperately concerned; it had been no small fall. Ron had descended a good three metres._

_He looked up into her worried brown eyes; nothing had changed. No, something had changed, he decided. They weren't just 'eyes' any more. They were deep brown centres to a face of perfect formation, unblemished and pure, that belonged to a girl that emanated beauty. And intelligence, and compassion, and kindness._

_He looked again at her still concerned expression, and raised his lips to hers, gently brushing the soft skin against her own, before realising what he was doing. His cheeks turning to a furious, fiery red, he slid away from her and picked himself up, running away with haste._

_Hermione touched her lips with a single finger, then looked at the same digit, surprise overwhelming her more than any other feeling._

_Then she smiled, acknowledging to herself what he had just told her._

_She rolled over in the grass, lying flat out on her back and smiling up at the sun._

_It seemed to smile back down at her._

Hermione, angry at herself for even allowing herself to be nostalgic, increased her pace as she marched on past the tree and made the rest of the journey to her home in silent rage.

Entering the house, she slammed the door, startling Crookshanks, but who nonetheless jumped towards his master, climbing up on her knees. Hermione couldn't stay angry for very long after that, and as she fussed about with her cat, she waved her wand to bring in any post. Today, incidentally, there was none.

Checking the clock, she noted that it was nearly five pm already, and that she needed to get the food cooking and to prepare herself for Neville's arrival. Moving to the kitchen, she waved her wand once and food started to fly out and around into a concentric circular arrangement, before distributing itself into appropriate pots and pans, which themselves had arrived from various locations around the room. Activating the gas-supplied cooker, she left everything to cook as she moved to the kitchen table to grade the tests she had given to the students in class today.

Most of the tests were of a middling grade at best – apparently not many students had revised well, or at least not to Hermione's standards. She was turning out to be almost as harsh with her marking as Professor Snape had been during her day, and presumably still was.

Eventually, the pile began to rotate back around toward the beginning as Hermione completed the task at hand, and she eventually found the test that Aeranna had done. Re-reading the script, she smiled; the answers that Aeranna had written were almost textbook replies to the questions. Raising an eyebrow, she ran her wand over to check for foul play, which would have been imprinted on the test paper due to the anti-cheating spells, but found nothing. Aeranna was truly as good as she had looked.

Suddenly, an aroma that certainly didn't agree with her tastes met with the inside of her nose. She looked over to the food; smoke had emerged from one of the pans and was billowing about the kitchen. Concurrently, the doorbell rang. Sighing, Hermione pointed her wand at the cooker, extinguishing the flames and headed to the door. As she approached the door, she heard a plant pot smash against the stone outside the porch.

She unlocked the Yale security device and pulled open the wooden-glass door, revealing Luna Lovegood, and Gilderoy Lockhart, once again.

Gilderoy immediately stepped forward, and with his most elaborate voice, announced: "Gilderoy Lockhart. Order of Photography, Third Class. Honorary Memb-"

He found his mouth covered by Luna's petite and bony hand as she shoved him back. "Ah, hi, Hermione. Mind if we come in?" She pushed past Hermione, Gilderoy following her. They proceeded into the living room, Hermione fuming silently behind them. She poked around with her wand under various objects. "Not under here... DEFINITELY not around here... WHAT is this, Hermione?" she indicated a rat that Crookshanks had brought in. Hermione scowled at the rat and then watched as Luna moved on. "Oh, I'm disappointed, I thought it was an Hinkleberry Moose." Hermione shook her head slightly; Luna didn't concern herself with it. She poked her wand into the roaring fire. "Oooh, fire hot. What's this? Soot on the mantelpiece? Hermione! Ah, here it is..." she directed her gaze to the ceiling. Her tone turning mystic, she chanted, "Dumpleting! Dumpleting!"

After a few seconds, she shook her head to Lockhart. "Not here, Gilderoy, sorry. Ciao, Hermione." The two promptly exited, leaving Hermione to regard the dead rat.

"CROOKSHANKS!" she yelled in fury.

Having repaired the plant pot, cleaned up the dead rat, and thoroughly chastised Crookshanks, Hermione had returned to the kitchen, continued with the preparation of the food and finally, the doorbell rang again. Hermione, crossing her fingers, moved toward the front door, sighing when she heard the tinkle of ceramic pieces against stone, and upon reaching the door, opened it to reveal the form of Neville.

"Sorry," he said, regarding the broken pot.

"Oh, don't worry, come in," Hermione ushered him in. She showed him to the living room, and told him she wouldn't be a minute while she finished the food. She promptly exited to the kitchen.

Neville, meanwhile, looked around the room, regarding each delicate and carefully-selected object with his rounded green eyes. His gaze strayed over the white, soft feathers of Hedwig, who cooed at him, and Neville found himself allured to her call. His feet pattered lightly across the carpet, which bore Crookshanks' hairs, as he approached the bird. Hedwig's head settled into his hand as he stroked her snow coloured fur.

A tear formed in his eyes and as the weight of the liquid increased, its form began to slide down his face and towards his rotund chin.

He hadn't noticed Hermione's renewed presence in the room. As he turned around, she saw his face and easily picked out the tears, and the skin surrounding the eyes which was starting to redden ever so slightly as the salt penetrated and inflamed the skin.

She trotted across the room to meet him, wrapping her arms around the professor in a warm, protective way as he withdrew his hand from Hedwig's cage and placed his own arms around Hermione.

He whispered almost silently into her ear. "Sorry, Hermione. It's just..."

"Shhhh," she whispered back. "It's alright. I understand."

Neville let out a healthy belch as he finished his meal, then immediately his face reddened in embarrassment.

She giggled. "I take that as a compliment, Neville."

"I... can't believe how quickly this term's going," Neville changed the subject hastily.

Hermione followed his lead. "I know. I should be planning my trip to Paris by now. I'm way behind."

Neville's eyes flicked up as he stuck a fork into the chocolate sponge cake Hermione had provided by way of dessert. "I meant to tell you something about that. Luna mentioned that the Crumple-Horned Snorkack has been sighted in Paris. She wanted to come along with you."

Seeing Hermione's eyes rolling faster than the wheels on a car he continued. "Just for the journey."

"Luna and Gilderoy, presumably, want to come with me to Paris?" Hermione was disgusted and without a doubt sickened.

"Yes," Neville was looking embarrassed again now, "but only for the journey. And besides, I think there's something to be said for having them along."

"Oh? Please, enlighten me," Hermione insisted.

"Luna's covering the Quidditch matches for the Quibbler," he elaborated.

"And?" Hermione was no further enthused.

"Well, the European Cup is being held in Paris, and one of the people representing Britain is..." He hesitated.

There was no need for Hermione to ask him to complete the sentence.

She flushed bright red.

As Neville left gracefully, two hours and twenty minutes and several glasses of white wine later, Hermione waved goodbye to the Herbology professor.

"Thank you for this evening," he told her. "I had a lovely time."

"That's ok, Neville," she smiled. "You're welcome any time."

He left with haste, carefully avoiding the plant pot this time. Hermione stepped forward and cursed as she herself knocked it off of its pedestal.

"_Reparo!_" she cast, and then put the repaired pot back on the stand, entering the house again shortly after. She looked at the clock, and seeing that the time read ten forty pm, she decided it was time to go to bed for the night. She needed to be fully awake for the next day in order to adequately teach the seventh-year Advanced Transfiguration class.

Having undressed and then vested herself in her night clothing, brushed her teeth, and had a wash, she slid into bed, protecting herself inside the quilts and sheets that made up the grand double bed. As her eyelids protected her eyes, she found herself in a world that was entirely her own...

_"No, Ron!" she said. "Can you not see I am working?"_

_"Come on!" Ron insisted, flashing his best puppy-dog smile at the ovals of her eyes._

_"No, Ronald," she pushed him away gently, smiling, "I have work to do."_

_He didn't say anything nor move; however, he kept the eyes fixed on Hermione's, and she, as he knew she would, relented._

_"Ten minutes, Ron, and that's all you're getting," she told him, pointing like a professor. He smiled, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the common room at speed._

_"Where are we going, Ron?" she asked as they passed the third-floor corridor._

_"Come on, we're going to miss it!" Ron, now nearly a man, pulled her along. His hand clasped tightly around her own, he helped her round the last corner to the bottom of the staircase._

_As they passed through the main door, Hermione found herself knocked to one side. She turned, but there was nothing to have knocked her._

_"What? What was that?" Hermione was puzzled, before cogs turned in her mind. "Was that Har-"_

_"No," Ron interjected hastily. "I, er, saw him in his room a few minutes before we left," he lied._

_"OK," Hermione was dubious, but she allowed it to slide as Ron pulled the last few metres to a bush near the lake._

_"Now, you've got to close your eyes," he told her, and as she did, he put his hands over her eyes and led her around the corner to a spot by the lake that had been used by many a couple over the years. A pink and white picnic cloth, a basket filled with much food and a bottle of Madam Rosmerta's Private Reserve, four large candles and two place settings were present._

_He removed his hands and told her she could open her eyes, which she did with a flutter, taking in the sight of the picnic and of the rippling lake, lit only by the candles, the stars and the moon. The luminescent effects were beautiful and radiant._

_"Ron... it's beaut-"_

_"Shhh," he said, silencing the overwhelmed girl. "Now... Hermione, if you want to see something even more beautiful, you have to lie down."_

_Hermione wondered exactly what her friend was implying presently, but indulged him as he gently pushed on her shoulders. She lay on the ground, and her eyes were inclined to the sky. She trusted Ron implicitly, so she had no problem when she heard him positioning himself in the grass next to her._

_"Now watch," he said, and waved his hand at the sky._

_Nothing happened for a few minutes, before Hermione spoke again. "Ron, what exactly are w-"_

_"Shhhh..." Ron told her; his sound was swiftly followed by a resonant bang and flash of blue radiant colour. Hermione was dazzled but she kept her eyes focused on the effect, watching as something emerged from the clouds of blue energy._

_"The Blue Phoen-" she muttered... "but... this is... so rare... Ron, how did you know?"_

_"I asked Hagrid," he told her softly, moving his body closer to hers. "He told me that the Blue Phoenix was migrating tonight, and so I hadn't got much time to set this up."_

_"It was Harry!" she called out playfully, turning her face to match his eyeline._

_He smiled back at her pretty face. "Yeah..." he admitted._

_Their eyes having met, he moved away slightly. "You know what, Hermione. It's pretty humid. Let's go for a swim." He started to toss his clothes off._

_"Are you mad?" Hermione demanded playfully._

_"No. Come on in!" he jumped over her and dived into the lake, disappearing under the water._

_At first, she was unconcerned but as Ron spent longer and longer under the water and the silenced persisted, she became concerned rapidly._

_"Ron?" she called, to no avail._

_"Ron, this isn't funny," her tone changed to a darker one, a hint of fear contrasting her previous sense of happiness._

_Eventually, she moved to the lake, ignoring the phoenix, which was now beginning to distance itself. She peered into the water. "Ro-"_

_She screamed as an arm reached out of the water and grabbed her, pulling her in with an enormous resonant splash._

_As both surfaced, she screamed, "Ron!" and splashed him with the water. He dodged, and returned fire vivaciously, swilling the already soaking Hermione with the lukewarm lake water._

_The two tired, and her angry cries changed to smiling giggles. "That was not funny, Ron!"_

_He swam over to her, and she approached him a little, before he surfaced inside of her arms, allowing them to drape like a curtain around his neck. He brought his own around her neck, and stared into her deep brown eyes._

_His hand settled into her hair, and he pulled her head closer to his own, their bodies floating together synchronously. The light of the full moon encapsulated their bodies as they drifted closer, and as their lips met, the reflection of the moon's light on the water was perfectly aligned to their own forms._

_Their lips melted together and soon their mouths opened to each other, allowing their tongues to dance an endless tango with each other as ripples of passion matched ripples of water._

_As their kiss broke, Hermione and Ron stared into each other's eyes for a seemingly infinitesimal moment before they swam back to shore. Ron pushed himself up and onto the bank, his eyes focused on the reeds and the muddy banks that made up the shore._

_Hermione's eyes, however, were transfixed on something else._

_"Errr, Ron..." she said._

_"What?" Ron stood tall in only his boxers, his eyes rapidly meeting those of Professor Snape. He jumped and nearly fell directly back into the water._

_"Well, well, well," Snape snorted. "Team Potter have finally gotten together. You know sexual relations are forbidden for people your age. After seven years, you're still disobeying the rules. I'm especially disappointed in you, Miss Granger."_

_"We haven't had any sexual contact!" she defended._

_"Oh, and the fact that Weasley here is only in his boxers is not evidence of the same?" Ron flushed furiously._

_"But..." Hermione tried to argue._

_"SILENCE!" he roared. "Back to the castle, now, both of you. We'll see what Professor McGonagall has to say about this." His sneer omnipresent, Hermione reluctantly climbed out of the water. She clung to herself, the cold of the sudden night time breeze against her wet skin a chilling force that was unwelcome and decidedly unpleasant._

_He frog-marched them back to the castle. Hagrid, in the distance, shook his head in disgust at Snape's actions as they passed the gates._


End file.
